


During The Storm

by peachmilktea



Series: Alternative Methods [6]
Category: Assassin's Creed, Kingdom Hearts
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-10 23:37:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachmilktea/pseuds/peachmilktea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She thinks he is worth holding onto, though he might disagree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	During The Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Immediately after Haytham's death.

She is in the house, helping Diane with basic chores when Ratonhnhaké:ton returns. He is a shadow of himself, bypassing Achilles, blood on his clothes and a worrying limp. Namine does not ask, does not hesitate. He could turn her away, yell at her, but the outcome would not change, he has been gone for days and to return in this state, hurt this way? He can have his space later. 

The upstairs belonged to Ratonhnhaké:ton an unspoken but clear rule. As such Namine had never ventured there but finding him was simple. In the middle of the room Ratonhnhaké:ton is a wall of silence, staring off into a world that she doesn't know. Watching him from the door way she is struck by fear, not of him, but of the rejection that seconds ago she was ready to push to the side. Inhaling very softly Namine steps inside and wills her body to move until she is beside him. 

"Ratonhnhaké:ton." His name is sure on her lips. She has practiced it in a variety of ways. 

He will not talk and for as much as she wants answers, needs them, Namine places those inclinations somewhere else. Moving to stand in front of him she began to undo the intricate work that was his outfit. The jacket, the vest, all of the buttons, ties, his weapons are carefully placed here and there, whether she can put them for the time being. The tomahawk is heavy, his bow and quiver are immense in her arms. This is a weight that he bears with every step, headstrong and lacking self-doubt and if he can do that then Namine can withstand this and more. This, she can do for him. 

Below, Diane finishes with dinner. Achilles reads, wanders around. Eventually sleeps. Ratonhnhaké:ton and Namine exist in their own world, the world that registers the storm outside, the upset of nature as she wraps his vicious wounds. If he flinches, if there is the beginning of something like tears, that is the moment that she stops to hold his face in her hands, smudging away blood and grime, sweat and pain. She does this until he is steady for the moment and then she continues. 

When he is clean and changed into simpler clothing, Namine returns with dinner.

"I am not hungry." His voice is a shell of it's usual humble, compassionate timbre.

"Don't do this." She has more strength than she realized, enough to make him look at her sharply, and though a part of her wants to buckle underneath his gaze, Namine doesn't. She can't. She made a promise and holds every intent to keep it. He could do this alone, without her, without anyone, but he doesn't have to. 

If he realizes that, he says nothing. He eats stubbornly, throwing quiet fits like a child before he gives in to the obvious hunger. Namine puts everything away in the appropriate space. She knows this home inside and out by now and to realize that it was no coincidence or surprise gives her a chill, makes her jump when the lightning and thunder feel as if they are right on top of her. 

He has finished when she returns, and is one step ahead of her as well. Ratonhnhaké:ton sits on his bed, head bowed and shoulders hunched. Still, she does not ask. Instead, Namine stays with him. She unties her apron and lets it rest over the back of a chair. He paces, mutters in his native tongue, he rages and fumes quietly. Namine draws, pretends that she cannot hear every thread of pain and suffering, repressed anger and confusion, his sense of hopelessness. She pretends that it does not remind her of being trapped in that castle to be used for something greater than she could ever be. 

When he cries Namine stands up from the desk and wraps her arms around him. Worse than fighting it there is no reaction at all. Just the tremors through his frame, the faint sounds. She squeezes him, threads her fingers through the material of his shirt. They stay like that for a very, very long time, until he is so exhausted that standing is an impossibility. 

"If you fall, I will not be able to pick you back up." A gentle warning that gets him into bed. It is at least midnight but she stays even then, drawing until her fingers ache. When he has finally closed his eyes and when his breathing has evened out Namine closes her drawing journal and eases herself off of his bed. Before she can make it a few steps away Ratonhnhaké:ton has moved faster than she could process, and yet his hand holds her wrist gently as if she might break.

"Stay." It isn't a command. His voice is still a hollow thing. "Please." 

And … She does. Under the blanket her skirt tangles with her legs, but if it bothers him he does not say anything. At first they are a good distance apart, on separate pillows. Wide awake Namine is aware of how little time it takes for them to edge closer, his arm around her waist, her body leaning back to meet his. It isn't awkward, it does not scare her. 

Underneath the covers, at the base of her stomach she lays her palm over the back of his hand. Namine is brave enough to ease her fingers between his and squeeze, and she can't breath until he squeezes back. Everything will be all right - just not right now, and that is okay.


End file.
